


63 Merton Street

by mollrach13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollrach13/pseuds/mollrach13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever visited the house at the end of Merton Street... until They moved in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	63 Merton Street

Oh my god, I was so going to Kill Jimmy when I got home. This was by far the most idiotic thing that my ass of an older brother had ever talked me into. Jesus.

As I walked up the long drive way the sky rumbled and I felt the beginning s of rain starting to fall around me. Perfect. I thought. But I carried on going, the overgrown hedges either side of me nicking my jumper. 

A loud shriek of lightning had me jumping and tripping on a stone, ending up on my hands and knees in a puddle… I was so going to kill Jimmy.

*

No one ever visited the house at the end of Merton Street. It had been abandoned for years, kids told the stories of an old man that used to live there, he was crazy they had said; would threaten anyone that came near the house with a shotgun, threw water at the postman and never left the house. After a while people just left him well enough alone. At some point he died – he was old that’s what happens. And the house stayed empty. The wooden window frames rotted, the roof lost tiles and the hedges and trees lining the gravel driveway overgrew keeping the house hidden from the roadside.

It used to be an initiation for the football team to spend a night in the house alone. From their stories sprouted legends of ghosts and spirits, the walls were said to be covered in engravings, strange books in all the bookcases, nothing but salt in the cellar. 

That all had to stop when They moved in.

It happened over night, literally. One day the house was empty, next day you could hear the grunts a bangs as new windows and doors were fitted. It was like they appeared from nowhere, Todd and Kelly insisted that they heard a deep rumble go past their house, like a hungry bear, but I didn’t hear anything and I live right next door.

The new occupants were still a mystery and maybe even more enigmatic than the previous owner. 

There was definitely one, maybe two, possibly three new inhabitants. The definite one had introduced himself to Martha at the store as Dean. He was tall and all the cheerleaders at school giggled when he walked past to get coffee in the mornings, he would offer them a small nod and a murmur of ‘Ladies’ and they would all blush and simper, it was really disgusting. But they were cheerleaders, what could you expect. (Jimmy said I will learn to appreciate cheerleaders when I grew up. But I don’t think so. First of all I’m eleven, I’m pretty much grown up and second of all cheerleaders are stupid)

There was another one, an older guy who always wore a trucker cap, that hung around and came to visit at least once a week. I’ve never heard his name but he called me an ‘idjit’ one time when my ball rolled out in front of his car.

There was one more. Someone who lived in the house but no one had ever seen. Not properly at least. If the winds blowing in the right direction sometimes you could see onto the back porch of the old house from our window. Sometimes there is someone there but you can’t see it properly. Jimmy says he’s a giant, and he is big. Like really big. Like ‘The Hulk’ big. Jimmy says he’s a Frankenstein monster and ‘Dean’ is keeping him in the house for science experiments. The kids at school say that they are both escaped serial killers and the other one stays inside because he has horrible burns from their escape. 

And sometimes, at night, there are these wailing sounds, like someone is being burnt alive. 

So that brings me to here, kneeling in the mud on a gravel driveway, tiny stones poking in my knees and the rain falling heavy now on my back. All I had to do was knock on the door, no big deal, easy. That had been exactly what I told Jimmy when he said I was too chicken. Well I’ll show him a chicken. 

He thinks he’s so cool sitting inside with his big tough football friends, thinking they are so funny. But I’m the one out in the rain, on a mission. He’ll think twice about poking fun at me for being scrawny when I’ve done this.

I pushed up from the ground, my hair now plastered to my forehead, and a flash of lightning illuminated the dark house up ahead. Yeah – I could totally do this. 

The gravel crunched under my feet as I neared the house. As I got closer I could see a tiny flicker of light from the inside but all the shutters were closed. 

The trees rustled and groaned around me and the porch step creaked under my foot and I swore that something was watching me, jus that creeping you get up the back of your neck. I spun around but there was no one there, nothing there except wind and rain.

I was nearly at the top of the steps when I turn back around to the house. I was not expecting a face in front of me. And I will never admit to Jimmy or anyone the noise that I made before sprawling backwards off the porch.

“Hey Kid!”

I looked up from my prone position on the ground and a flash of perfectly timed lightning relvealed the shine of a shot gun barrel and the glint in a green pair of eyes.

I put my hand on the floor, to get up, to get away. But as soon as I put pressure on it I couldn’t hold back my gasp of pain. 

Blood. There was blood on my hand, coming from a huge gash across the palm. I was transfixed, I’d never seen that much blood anywhere other than TV – it wasn’t what I thought it would look like.

A rough hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my daydream.

“What the hell are you – oh… ouch kid.” I think it’s Dean talking to me, he still had a shot gun in his hand but it was aimed at the ground and with his free hand he took hold of my injured one. “That’s gonna need stitches.” He mumbled, mainly to himself I think cause I sure wasn’t taking anything in. He seemed to get that I was in some kind of shock cause he looked at me then. It wasn’t a comfortable stare, it was like he was looking through me, into me, all around me. Taking in everything I was thinking or could be thinking or ever would think. But I couldn’t look away. After a while he seemed to decide something because he nodded and rose from the crouch he had lowered to, pulling me up by the elbow.

Once standing he and his gun started towards the house. I stood, fixed to the ground, my bleeding hand held close to my chest until he turned around.

“Well…” he said pointedly, nodding towards the house. “You can’t stand around in the rain all night.” And entered the house, holding the door open in expectancy. 

The last thing I really wanted to do, or should do right now was enter the creepy house of a suspected serial killer but I was wet, and my hand hurt, and he still had a gun. 

When the door shut behind me I was pleasantly surprised by the interior. A small fire crackled in the fire place off to the left and a clean open kitchen stood to the right where Dean had gone, rummaging in one of the cupboards and returning with a first aid kit.

He turned round to find me still stood by the front door.

“You’re not gonna get dry there – go sit by the fire.”

My shuffling feet obeyed before I really thought about it, but they had the right idea because it wasn’t until I felt the warmth of the fire wash over me that I realised how cold I actually was. 

“Here.” Came a gruff voice after a few moments. I looked up to see ‘Dean’ thrusting a towel in my face. “For your hair.” He said after I had stared for a few moments. 

After I had taken the worst of the wet off my hair Dean sat me in the chair by the fire and crouched in front of me, taking my hand in his.

“’S not as bad as I thought.” He mumbled after he had cleaned the wound gently. “Probably gonna need at least two stiches though.” He looked up at me apparently expecting a response, so I just nodded. 

He carried on staring at me a bit longer. “So what are you doing out here at night anyway kid. You just fancy a walk in the rain?”

“I- uh. I-“ I stuttered. But I stiffened when large footsteps came down the stairs.

“Dean?” a deep voice called. I had a moment to think ‘so that actually is his name’ before a figure filled the doorway to the hall. And I mean totally filled. 

“’S alright Sammy, go back to bed.”

“Dean, was goin’ on?” ‘Sammy’ mumbled sleepily. And… he didn’t look to scary fisting sleep out of his eyes like that but I never actually met a Frankenstein monster before so you never know.

“Jus’ the kid from down the road. Hurt his hand. Go back to bed.”

“Dean-“ but this time it wasn’t sleepy, it was tense, kinda panicked. Dean seemed to pick up on that and carefully looked over his shoulder at the giant in the doorway.

“It’s fine Sammy. He passed through the devils trap and the salt. It’s just a kid.” Dean continued to stare at ‘Sammy’ until his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, his slanted eyes flicking back and forth between me and Dean. “Now go back to bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”

“No.” Sam mumbled, eyes still flicking.

“Ok. Well why don’t you go and sit in the study, yeah?”

‘Sammy’ took a moment to deliberate, and gave me a long stare. I tried my hardest not to cringe back under its intensity but after a moment ‘Sammy’ nodded and retreated back to the hallway.

“Don’t worry about him.” Dean called from his position still at my feet, I whipped my head from where it had still been staring at the door frame. “That’s just Sammy, my little brother. He’s harmless.”

“Little?” I huffed without even thinking about it.

“Yeah.” Dean huffed a laugh, “Don’t let his size fool you, he can be a right princess.”

I was distracted from the fond look on Dean’s face down towards where his eyes where fixed. A needle. God – stitches. I felt my pulse start to quicken, my hand already hurt enough, how could sticking a big needle in it help.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Dean asked, pulling my eyes away from the needle.

“Um… yeah. I have a brother. Jimmy.”

“Oh yeah? Older or younger?”

“Older. He’s sixteen.”

“And how old are you?”

“Eleven, almost twelve.”

“huh – Nearly the same as me and Sammy. It’s alright.” He cooed when I flinched under the needle. “Don’t worry, I’ve had to do this to Sammy loadsa times. Especially when he was your age, go he was clumsy.”

I winced again as the needle pierced my skin again.

“One time he got a slice right across his arm from a shelf in the library. Only Sammy could get injured in a house of books.” I watched his eyes crinkle in fond amusement, he looked younger then. I don’t know how old adults are supposed to look but he looked younger than Dad anyway. 

He startled me by tapping the side of my hand. I looked down and my eyes widened in surprise at the bandaged hand.

“See, what did I tell you. Piece of cake.”

“Um… thanks.” I croaked. Pushing up with my knees I tried to stand, and I did for about two seconds before my shaking knees wouldn’t hold me anymore.

“Whoa, hey there. Slow down.” I let Dean manoeuvre me back into the chair. “It’s just the adrenalin and little blood loss. I’ll make some tea or something for you then you can head back home.” All I could do was nod in response as he set an old kettle onto the hob and set it going. 

A phone ringing distracted him from his movements and he pulled out a mobile from his back pocket. “I have to take this.” He said after glancing at the display, “Give me two seconds kid.”

I nodded, again, but Dean had already disappeared into the hall and his footsteps faded up the stairs.

Now that I was alone in the room I didn’t seem to want to stay still. I glanced around the room but apart from two chairs by the fire and a table with three chairs the room didn’t have much furniture, no pictures or rugs or vases, the things that my Mum dusts compulsively every day. Just flat surfaces, and really, who needs vases, flowers belong outside anyway. 

I stood and wandered over to the table noting the discarded newspaper on the side, the crossword already filled out.

I heard a creak from the hallway and looked over my shoulder. There was nothing there.

Now I know that in all the horror films the guy that goes towards the creepy sound usually gets killed, but I was curious.

The hallway was deserted, the corridor leading off to the right clear except for a hook with two coats on it and the stair case, to the left there was a single door, it stood slightly afar. A dull light was flickering slightly casting a slim line of light across the hallway floor. 

I took one step forward, just to see what was causing the light. I winced when my footstep caused the old floorboards to squeak.

“Dean?” came a call from the room. I hesitated a second before pushing the door open enough so I could stick my head in.

“Sorry, just me.” I cringed. What the front room lacked in substance this room made up for. All along the far wall was a bookcase packed to the gills with small books, large books, old books, bundles of old paper. Books were piled by the window, on the table in the corner and stacked in front of the shelves. 

There was only two surfaces not covered in books and that was two mismatched chairs, one was occupied with the large frame of ‘Sammy’.

He looked at me lowering his book to his lap, just staring.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat and made to retreat.

“No, wait.” ‘Sammy’ called from the room; I looked back around to find he had put his book aside twisting his hands together in his lap. “Come- come in.”

The chair was kinda lumpy and the material was scratchy but I sat tentatively on the edge, my eyes skimming over all the books around me, trying to pick out the titles. I recognised a few – some of the classics, some the titles were in a language I didn’t know, some were so old there titles had worn away. 

I was more than aware of ‘Sammy’s’ considering stare at me so I kept my gaze averted, waiting for something to say. Until I saw the book he had set aside.

“Hey – Of Mice and Men.” I exclaimed as I reached out for it. The spine was slightly worn, not as much as some of the texts around but you could tell it had been read more than once.

“You like that book?” I looked up from where I was flicking through the pages to see Sam staring at me still, a little less tense than he had been.

“Um…” I started, seeming to realise that I had just snatched up someone else’s book in their own home. Mum always said I had no manners. “Yeah.” I continued, fingering the cover, “We had to read it in English class.”

“What did you like best about it?” he asked, and I felt myself relaxing back into the seat.

“I dunno… loadsa stuff. I liked Lenny, he was really nice and kind even though he was scary and big and…” I trailed off glancing up at Sam who seemed to have a small quirk in his lips now. I blushed a little and looked down at the book on my lap.

“I always liked George.” He offered after a short time.

I looked up at Sam in surprise “But didn’t he kill Lenny at the end?” 

Sam shrugged, “He did what he had to do.” 

We wandered back into silence as I stared around at the bookcase some more.

“Do you like to read?” Sam spoke up.

“Sometimes” I offered placing the book back on the table beside Sam. “Jimmy says it makes me a dork.”

“Older brother?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

And Sam smiled then, showing little dimples on his cheeks, “Big brothers,” he said looking around the room, “Can’t live with um… can’t live without um.”

I privately thought that I could easily live without Jimmy and his stupid friends and wedgies and wet willies. And Sam smiled at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Have you read anything else by Steinbeck?” Sam asked, rising from his seat with fluid movements towards the far end of the bookcase.

“Oh… no. I just read that one for class.”

“Here” he said, thrusting a book at me. The cover was worn and old but it looked well looked after, “you might like this.”

“Oh.” I said because Jimmy was never going to believe that the Frankenstein monster and serial murderer was lending me a book like my old stuffy literature teacher. “Um… thanks.”

“No problem.”

I opened my mouth to ask: who are you, why do you live here, why do you never go outside, are you a serial killer? But nothing came out; instead I closed it again and looked down at the book in my hands.

Sam settled back into his seat and drew a new book to his lap, opening it at a marked page and began to read, glancing at me over the top every few lines. With a lack of anything else to do I opened the book in my lap on the first page and started reading.

“Sammy?” Dean’s gruff voice called from the hallway. Sam looked patiently up as his brother came into the doorframe, “You seen that kid – oh” he said when he noticed me sat in the room, open book in front of me. “What’s goin on here then?” he asked frowning at me.

“We’re just reading Dean.” Sam said calmly, eyes still on his book. 

Dean looked surprised for a second before a pleased look came over him. “Okay then.” He said clapping his hands together. “I got your drink kid; you wanna have it in here?”

“Sure.”

So that’s how I found myself sitting in an overcrowded study reading and drinking tea with our towns resident local legends. It was… weird.

Sam didn’t say much, his eyes down at his book. Every now and then he would grimace slightly or frown and his grip on the book would tighten. Dean would react instantly, placing a hand on Sam’s arm or leg and giving it a squeeze before Sam relaxed and gave him a small nod or smile. It was odd but certainly not horror story worthy.

I was so comfortable, nearly having finished my tea telling Dean all about Missy Jenkins and Sherriff Hall and how my mum said she was a ‘hussy’, listening to Dean chuckle warmly, that I completely forgot about-

“What the hell was that?” exclaimed Dean after a few loud successive bangs on the front door. Sam even frowned and put his book down glancing at Dean warily. He stood gracefully picking up a shotgun I hadn’t even noticed by the side of Sam’s chair.

“Hey!” came a voice from the front door. “Hey! Come out here! What the hell have you done with my brother! I swear to god-“

“Crap Jimmy!” I exclaimed jumping from my seat to the front door. I swung open the door to be met with the dripping wet frame of my brother whose face was screwed in fierce determination, which quickly melted to shock and then a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flicker of relief before he grabbed the top of my arm and pulled me towards him.

“What the hell have you been doing? You said ten minutes and that was almost an hour ago!”

I opened my mouth to respond but before I could I was being pulled by my arm again behind Jimmy who pulled himself to his full height, now blocking me from the door frame.

“What were you doing with my brother.” He ground out

“Doin’ nothin’ pal.” Dean said easily, the shotgun now gone from his hands as he stood in the doorway with his hands raised in supplication, “just drying him out after his stint in the rain”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder at me in confirmation and I offered him a small smile in agreement.

“Hey.” I turned back to see Sam now stood next to Dean in the doorframe, he offered out a paw of a hand and I felt Jimmy flinch back as I recognised the object in his hands, “You forgot your book.”

“Thanks Sam.” I said taking it from his grasp. Jimmy just looked back and forth between me and the strange neighbours. 

“Just bring it back when you’re finished.” He said with a shy smile which I returned.

“Yeah, come by anytime kiddo.” Dean offered with a smile of his own.

Jimmy just stared open mouth at the brothers before snapping out of it and dragging me away. “Dude.” He whispered after we were a safe distance down the drive, “Did you just totally make friends with the town weirdo’s?”

“Yup.” I replied smugly swinging my borrowed book in one arm.

“You freak.” Jimmy smirked without heat and pulled me into his side with an arm around my shoulders.

I looked over my shoulder one more time before we rounded the corner and saw Dean give me a small wave and grip Sam by the back of the neck leading him back into the house. The door closed behind them sending the house once more into the shadows.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] 63 Merton Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/721950) by [colls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/pseuds/colls)




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